Vermin Invaders
by J.S.O
Summary: (COMPLETE) Based on the classic Slagar the Cruel Productions (STCP) downloadable video game; five brave mouse archers must defend Redwall against the hordes of Thunderclaw Bloodshaft.
1. A Horde Invades

Disclaimer: Redwall isn't my property. While I have created most of this story, it is based on a downloadable game from Slagar the Cruel Productions called (SURPRISE!) Vermin Invaders. It's an excellent game, and I felt the story needed a little expanding on. So this is the result. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter 1: A Horde Invades  
  
Lord Thunderclaw whirled around irritably. "What do you lazy lot think you're doin', huh?" he demanded, adjusting his crown slightly on his head. "While my stupid little brother stays in the Northlands to rule a kingdom of three squirrels, two hedgehogs, a couple eagles, and an acorn, I'm goin' to do something! Double time now! We're almost there! I can see the Abbey walls ahead!"  
The Hordemaster, as he was known, was on a conquest. He had heard about the peaceful Abbey of Redwall in Mossflower country, and thought it the perfect place to start his kingdom over again. There were a few reasons for his relocation, but one stood out above all the rest.  
If not for his little brother Kevar, Thunderclaw would never have left the Northlands. Kevar had grown up to be every bit as strong as Thunderclaw, and a better archer. Kevar's fanatical followers, his "Royal Guard," had become the most feared fighters in the land. Kevar had the upper hand in the Northlands.  
So Thunderclaw had to go elsewhere. He knew at once where he wanted to go. Redwall Abbey was legendary, and Thunderclaw fancied himself a legendary conqueror. No one had ever taken over those peaceful country bumpkins, in their red-stoned Abbey. Thunderclaw was sure he was going to be the first.  
He wasn't without backup. His army commanders were among the fiercest beasts in all the Northlands. He already knew who he was going to give command of the preliminary assault to. A rat, just like Thunderclaw himself, the Conjurer was a rare beast. He had magical powers, something that Thunderclaw greatly admired. The Conjurer could summon other rats at will. He could bring them in to back himself up. The Conjurer was a fearsome warrior!  
The Abbey, he knew, would have great heroes of its own. They had to fall. Thunderclaw knew that if the Abbeybeasts saw their heroes fall, they, too, would fall to his might. His Weasel Assassins would see to that. There weren't two faster beasts in the entire Northlands; he'd even set them on his brother once, though by a stroke of luck he was able to fight them off.  
And then there was Yelloweye the Sling, Thunderclaw's second-in- command. The great wildcat was immune to all but his own slingstones. He could have defeated Thunderclaw himself, but he knew that he wasn't a ruler at heart. He would rather let Thunderclaw do the ruling and stand on the sidelines, enforcing his Lord's will and crushing any resistance to the rat's authority.  
Thunderclaw was confident. He didn't think the Abbey could stop him.  
Standing atop the wall, a group of mice saw the approaching rat and his horde. These mice were at Redwall for the annual archery contest; they were the best archers in Mossflower.  
"Hey, you wanna shout any louder?" one of them demanded of Thunderclaw as the rat advanced to within earshot. "I think a few at Castle Floret didn't hear you attacking!"  
"I have no need for surprise, mouse," Thunderclaw shot back. "I have a crew of seasoned fighters from the Northlands. Your Abbeydwellers will be no match for us. I will come in to work out the terms of your surrender."  
"If by terms of surrender you mean terms of get the flip away from our Abbey or we'll shoot you, then yes," another mouse replied.  
"I am not here to banter with your crew of mice," Thunderclaw spat disdainfully. "If all you have are insults than all you'll get is a slaughter here, and nothing paid for it!"  
"We'll get a slaughter by gum," replied another of the mice. "A slaughter of you!"  
"How can you make such outrageous claims, mouse?" Thunderclaw said. "There are only five of you, and there are over twenty-score of us. Surely five beasts cannot defend a whole Abbey!"  
"Against scum like you we can," another archer responded. "You're worthless. Everyone knows vermin can only take one hit."  
"I have no more to say to you, mice. Prepare to die. Retreat!" Thunderclaw yelled, and his horde obeyed, backing away from the Abbey.  
"You think he plans to attack?" Tell, one of the archers, asked Robin, another.  
"I think he plans to attack. There were four of them that concerned me; besides the rat himself of course...there was another huge rat with big red eyes. Did you see him, Greenleaf?"  
"Aye, I saw 'im," responded Greenleaf. He was called Greenleaf because he'd lived in Mossflower all his life, and he'd spent most of his time in Mossflower climbing trees and sitting in the leaves. Some called him a squirrel, but his friends knew that he just loved trees. "Dangerous beast he was, aye, wouldn't want to meet him."  
"No, but I think the ones we'll have to worry about are those two weasels," Apollo, another of the mice, put in. "They had the look of assassins, and that rat king doesn't seem like he'd be afraid to use them. Vermin'll do anything to win a fight."  
"Aye, that they will," Yi, the youngest of the archer mice, responded.  
"We'd best warn the Abbot," Robin said. "He's a wise ol' beast. He'll know what to do."  
Descending down into the courtyard, the mice soon found themselves alone with the Abbot in his private study.  
"Father, a vermin horde has just come up the path, let by an archer- king. There is no question in my mind that they intend to conquer Redwall and enslave us all," Tell said.  
"Then you know what you must do," the Abbot replied. "Surely they will lay siege to our Abbey and starve us out. The spirit of Martin the Warrior told me that you would be needed here, my friends, that is why I called for the archery contest early this year. You must charge out and meet them. They will never expect an attack now. Go my friends...the fate of Redwall Abbey is on your bows!"  
The mice were shocked. They had expected the Abbot to try and find a non-violent solution. There was nothing for it now.  
"Pack your provisions," Apollo said. "This should be over quickly, so travel light. There are a lot of them, but vermin can only take one hit. It's those weasels and that red-eyed rat besides the archer-king 'imself."  
"Apollo, you forgot the one I think is the most fearsome beast of them all," Tell said. "That great yellow-eyed wildcat. I'm surprised he hasn't slayed that rat and taken control of the horde for himself."  
"Ah yes, the wildcat," Robin said coldly. "I know of him. Yelloweye the Sling, I recognized him immediately. Let's just say we've had a run in before."  
"You have?" Apollo questioned. "When? How?"  
"I am from the Northlands as you may know. Long has that place been thick with wildcats. And how cruel they are to goodbeasts! When I was just a dibbun with my mother, a young cat with great yellow eyes raided our house. He called himself Yelloweye the Sling. I'll never forget those eyes as long as I live."  
The hate in Robin's voice was audible, and all the other mice backed away, except for Tell, who threw a paw around his fellow mouse's shoulder.  
"Come now, Robin," Tell said comfortingly. "I'm sure you'll get the chance for your revenge. But let's go, before any more time elapses."  
Opening the gate, the five friends stepped out into Mossflower. 


	2. Assault on the Abbey

Chapter 2: Assault on the Abbey  
  
"Apollo, I don't think five of us will be enough," Tell said after they had been outside for about half an hour. "You are the fastest runner. Go through Mossflower and recruit some more mice for us. We're going to need them."  
"Are you sure?" Apollo asked, sounding disappointed.  
"I know you'd like to fight, my friend," Tell replied. "But you are the swiftest of paw. Go now, run, and bring us back many more mice!"  
"I will," Apollo said. "But save some for me!"  
"Don't worry, my friend," Robin put in darkly. "I think there'll be more than enough for all of us and your new recruits."  
Apollo peeled off at a powerful jog, and Yi inhaled with envy.  
"I wish I could run like that 'un," he said wistfully.  
"Don't we all," said Robin dryly. "Hey, what's that noise?"  
Indeed it was loud, and it was a noise that sounded suspiciously like marching feet.  
"It's them," Robin gasped. "They were planning to take us by surprise. Well, friends, it looks like we've got our first fight on our hands."  
"Lookit how many there are," Tell said. "And they're coming from all directions. Let's back up and get closer to the Abbey. Put one of us in front of each wall. Let's hope Apollo comes with his reinforcements soon."  
The mice turned and ran back into the clearing in which the Abbey stood. Each of them ran to guard a different wall: Robin protected the North side, Yi the East, Tell the West and Greenleaf the South.  
It was from the North that the vermin first attacked. A platoon of rats it was, not very many of them, either. The rats, being no expert archers, simply charged the mouse.  
Vermin can only take one hit, Robin thought to himself as he lined up his first shot. He fitted one of his arrows to the string and let fly.  
TWANG! The arrow felled a rat in the front rank of vermin. Robin mentally congratulated himself. Clenching his jaw, he fitted another arrow to the string.  
  
The Conjurer felt a twinge in his head. "We will not break through their defense of the North wall," he said to one of his captains, a stoat named Scarbow. "The best bowbeast in all the world protects it. Send some of your rats to the East wall. And send a large platoon. He will not be able to hold them off."  
The stoat threw a sharp salute. "Yes, sir."  
"Do not fail me, Scarbow," the rat said, boring into the stoat with his huge red eyes.  
"I won't, Master," the stoat replied.  
  
Not long after, the platoon of rats did come marching down towards the East wall. It was Li, the youngest of the archer mice, who was there in defense of that wall. Not pausing to aim, Li let fly arrow after arrow into the platoon of vermin, ripping into their ranks before they could even think about storming the little wicker gate in the East wall.  
They won't last long, he thought to himself. No one ever does.  
  
The Conjurer was irritated now. "SCARBOW!" he exclaimed. "Gather some of your archers and send them with rats. We will break through the defenses. There's only one mouse guarding each side of the wall!"  
"Yes, my lord," the stoat replied. Turning, he dashed away to give the order for the next assault on a different wall.  
  
This assault came on the South wall. Greenleaf was waiting. Loading and firing as fast as he could, he bit through the ranks of the vermin.  
Suddenly, before the mouse could react, an arrow came plummeting from the sky and embedded itself in his shoulder.  
"Ahhhhhh!" he exclaimed. The mouse had never been wounded before. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the arrow out of his shoulder.  
Blood flowed from the wound, soaking his fur and clothes. He cursed letting himself get hit by the arrow. Loading and firing again, he took down a stoat archer.  
Soon, he couldn't feel the wound at all, and he was back into the fray. The vermin were easily defeated, as they'd brought very few archers with them, and Greenleaf could deal with the rats before they really became a problem.  
When the vermin were gone, Greenleaf felt the wound again. The effects of it were making him dizzy with pain and blood loss. He couldn't think...and then the mouse passed out, right on the ground.  
  
It was a good thing for the safety of Redwall Abbey that the Conjurer never figured out how grievously Greenleaf had been wounded. Instead, the rat figured that the South wall was being guarded by an archer who was also far too skilled for his relatively small group of forces to get past.  
"Scarbow, I want you to go with the next group of invaders," the red- eyed rat said. "Make sure that they do not fail me."  
"Yes, my lord," the stoat replied. "They will be no match for me and my forces. I will see to it that the Abbey is brought under the control of you and my Lord Thunderclaw."  
"Good, Scarbow," the Conjurer replied. "If you succeed, you will be rewarded."  
"Yes my lord," the stoat responded, and dashed off to lead a small group of forces against the West wall...and meet with Tell.  
  
Tell was selecting arrows that would be best for the fray. Being an experienced warbeast, the mouse knew it would only be a matter of time before the vermin attacked his side of the wall. He knew how vermin operated: when they were defeated by a goodbeast, they did not try to defeat that same goodbeast again...they were much too cowardly to try that. No, instead the vermin would attack from a different direction, trying to win the battle without confronting the warrior who defeated them.  
Tell had had vermin avoid him numerous times. He had the utmost faith that his friends would rebuff the assaults of the vermin and that soon enough he would be forced to fight for his life.  
ZZZZZZZZIP! THONK! An arrow buried itself right between Tell's footpaws. He knew that the vermin were finally attacking him.  
Taking one of the arrows he selected, he fired it at a stoat archer who seemed to be leading the charge.  
  
Scarbow never knew what hit him. The arrow came plummeting out of midair and smashed into his skull, burying itself right in his ear. Down went the stoat, losing consciousness rapidly. The vermin stepped over their fallen leader and continued advancing on Tell. The battle still had to be won.  
  
Congratulating himself grimly, the archer-mouse loaded and fired again. This time, he took down another stoat archer. He knew that the archers were the beasts that could cause him the most harm...he had dealt with ranks upon ranks of sword-armed beasts before...it was archers that he really had to worry about, because they could hurt him at exactly the same range that he could hurt them.  
The vermin platoon, however, wasn't going to be successful in getting past Tell. That became clear to Anybeast watching within thirty seconds. Tell had already taken down all of their archers, and was starting to mow down the rats.  
But on the North side of the wall, something bigger was happening....  
  
"I'm going in," the Conjurer said to the remaining members of his forces, which consisted of nothing but rats. Thunderclaw had thought the Abbeybeasts would be pushovers, so he had been reluctant to give the Conjurer the troops that the magical rat knew he would need. His powers had shown him just how great those mouse-archers were.  
"You stay here," he said to his rats. "I will use my powers to call you if I need help. IF you appear in the middle of a fight between me and the greatest living archer, remember that you must march straight for him, but go side-to-side a lot to make it tougher for him to hit and you at the same time. He will be a worthy adversary, but nobeast can stand against the Conjurer in a fight!"  
  
Robin couldn't believe his eyes. He saw a rat appear right in front of him, maybe a hundred feet from where he stood.  
"I am the Conjurer," said the red-eyed rat. "Surrender, mouse- archer, for nobeast can stand to me in a fight."  
"I guess we'll find out how true that is," Robin said. Without waiting for a signal to start the duel, the archer-mouse fired off an arrow that slammed into the Conjurer's chest.  
The rat grunted with disdain and yanked the arrow out of himself. "It will take more than one good shot to kill me, mouse," he said. "Have you no honor? I never said to begin the duel!"  
"This is no duel, rat," said Robin. "You are invading our land and our Abbey. You are an invader, and you can shoot at invaders without any signal from them."  
"I come alone," the rat said, spreading his paws wide.  
"Hah! Vermin like you never come alone. You must have some trick up your sleeve."  
"We'll see," said the Conjurer.  
Robin fired another arrow at the rat, but he dodged, and charged the mouse. Robin hit him dead on, but the rat simply shook off the blow and backed away. Robin fired ten arrows in a rapid succession, all hitting the rat dead on.  
His blood started to stain the ground. It was bluish-white. Robin had never seen such a vile-looking fluid. Looking away, he fired again.  
This shot hit the rat, who backed up to where he had originally appeared. This is unbelievable, Robin thought to himself. Nobeast should be able to take this much punishment!  
The rat muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and waved his arms. Robin gasped in surprise as three rats appeared out of nowhere and began to calmly advance on him.  
Thinking quickly, the mouse realized that the vermin could do him no harm until they got extremely close. I'll get him once or twice more before I worry about them, he thought.  
And so he did. Firing two arrows into the magical rat quickly, he rounded on the three that had begun to advance on the Abbey. Dispatching of them quickly, he looked back at the spot where he had once again forced the rat to stand, and saw that he had conjured three more rats, who were once again advancing on him.  
I cannot worry about dispatching all of the rats, he said to himself. Maybe they'll be forced to return to where they came from if I kill him, but in any case he'll just keep conjuring more if I don't try to stop him.  
Disregarding the rats entirely, Robin fired arrows like a madbeast into the Conjurer. Only occasionally was he forced to fend off a rat or two that got too close to the Abbey.  
Finally, Robin fired an arrow that did something. He hit the Conjurer in the chest for at least the thirtieth time, and the rat stopped, swayed, and toppled to the ground.  
"Truly," he said. "The mouse is...the greatest archer...in...the world," he struggled to get his words out. "Nobeast could ever defeat me, they said it many times. This...mouse...he is...something...sp...special."  
And with that, the Conjurer, the only truly magical beast ever documented at Redwall Abbey, breathed his last and died.  
The rats were indeed snapped back to their original location as soon as the Conjurer died. Too frightened to speak, they dashed off through Mossflower back to the horde encampment.  
"Coast clear!" Robin shouted. His three friends came to join him in front of the North wall.  
"He was quite a beast," Robin said.  
"Who?" Tell asked. "That rat?"  
"Yes," Robin replied. "He was a magical beast. He conjured rats to fight me."  
"The Miss Grada'll have a field day," Yi said.  
"We can tell Grada about all of these happenings later, Yi," Tell said.  
"What?" Greenleaf asked, cutting in. "You don't mean..."  
"We have to," Tell said. "There is no choice. We must go after them and defeat them. We must clean our woods of the scum."  
"Well, let's get going then," said Robin.  
All of the archers reslung their bows across their backs and set off into Mossflower Wood. 


	3. The Recruiting Mission

Chapter 3: The Recruiting Mission  
  
Inside the Abbey, nobeast had any idea about the war going on outside. The Abbot, who had the utmost faith in the five mouse-archers, didn't think it would be good for anyone to learn about the war unless absolutely necessary. He had forbidden anyone from going up on the wall because, he said, there might be a storm tonight and he didn't want anyone getting lost.  
It was dinner time. Everybeast was enjoying a wonderful feast in the Great Hall. Life at Redwall went on as usual, with nobeast aware that they were being invaded by a horde of vermin.  
  
In a very different part of the woods, another mouse faced a different challenge. While the Abbot faced the challenge of keeping his beasts from finding out about the vermin invasion, Apollo was busy trying to find mice to alert of the invasion and fight it.  
He was lost. A storm was brewing, that much was obvious. And though he'd lived in Mossflower all his life, that place simply cannot be navigated at night when a storm is brewing. So he was lost. And tired. Suddenly, he felt beneath his footpaws an altogether different substance. Not the normal dirt floor of the forest, but stone. A voice filled the air, and it spoke, saying:  
"Come in, stranger, only if YOUR greatest talent passES our test. Score forty points in one minute or less, with a blue target being worth five points and a red target being worth one point. If YOU ARE on a good day, YOU MAY join us. BUT NOT FOR VERY LONG. WE HAVE LIMITED TIME WITH YOU."  
"What is this?" Apollo demanded. "What kind of place...where could I...." He fell silent. A blue target sped by, very close, and he nailed it with his arrow. Something told him that he wanted to get to this place, wherever it was.  
Targets started to sail by. He easily nailed many of them, and few floated past. He wondered what special powers these beasts commanded that allowed them to make the targets float.  
But he didn't have that much time to think. He was too busy firing arrows into the targets. Finally, the voice filled the air again.  
"ENOUGH," the voice said. "YOU HAVE BOTH THE SKILL AND THE GREAT NEED TO ENTER."  
Suddenly, Apollo felt as though he was floating over a dark, tranquil lake, with trees all around it. It was peaceful here. The mouse's aching footpaws were feeling better. He could see a number of hazy-looking mice around him.  
"CHOOSE ONE OF THEM," the voice said. "TAKE HIM WITH YOU; HE WILL HELP YOUR FRIENDS."  
"Is...that...no. It can't be...dad?"  
The voice said nothing. Apollo just sat there, staring at the hazy- looking mouse who looked just like his dad, who had been killed in battle so many years earlier. The mouse finally broke his silence. "I choose him," he said, pointing to the mouse that looked just like his dad.  
In a flash, his surroundings dissipated. He was back on the dirt path. He felt a paw on his shoulder. He turned around and saw his dad, just like he'd seen him before he went off to that fateful battle all those years ago, smiling back at him.  
"Did...I...you know...go...THERE?" Apollo asked, still worried his dad might not be able to talk or might not remember him.  
"Yes," his dad replied. 'But we're on a mission. We can't talk about that now; we have to go find your friends. We need to deal with those vermin invaders!"  
"Dad," Apollo said. "I can't believe you're back."  
Tears on each mouse's cheek, they embraced; happy to be back together again after so many long seasons apart.  
And though it was pouring down rain, for Apollo it might have been the sunniest day in the history of the world. He had his father back. 


	4. The Assassination Plot

Chapter 4: The Assassination Plot  
  
They were wet, bedraggled, and tired. They'd slept out in the rain. But the four mouse-archers were more than ready to begin their assault on the horde, as they'd been steeling themselves for it all night. That's when Apollo came back, with his father right behind him.  
"Hello," he said, sounding like a changed beast.  
"That's all you brought us?" Tell demanded. "One mouse?"  
Apollo didn't even raise his voice. "Tell," he said. "I'd like you to meet someone. Tell, this is my father."  
"No," Tell responded. "It can't be...your father, he died...no...it's not...it can't...."  
"And yet," Apollo's father said, "It is. I can assure it's me, Tell, old battler. How're ya doing?"  
"I'm...fine," Tell said, seeing a face he hadn't seen for years and years. He'd fought alongside Apollo's father in the famous Vermin Wars decades earlier. "How...how're you?"  
"Oh, I'm doing well," Apollo's father said.  
"You didn't, go...ya know, THERE, did you?" Tell asked, turning to Apollo.  
"Yes I did. It's wonderful," the no-longer fatherless mouse replied.  
"Wait," Robin said, cutting in. "You're trying to tell me that Apollo was out on a recruiting mission and ended up THERE?"  
"Yeah," Apollo and his father replied in unison.  
"This is crazy," Robin said, chuckling to himself. No one chuckled with him. "You're...you're serious?"  
"DEAD serious," Apollo replied. Silence fell for a few seconds, and then the entire camp of mice burst out laughing.  
"Apollo," Tell said. "I know it's hard to ask you to leave your father just as soon as you found him, but we need more than one mouse, no matter how valiant that mouse may be. Yesterday they already tested our strength and I have a feeling that was just the beginning of the ruffians. They mean business, and six mice aren't going to stop them."  
"I'll go," Apollo said. "But I can't promise an army. Only one or two mice at best. Where shall I send them so that I can keep recruiting while they go back and join you?"  
"Tell them to go to the battle," Tell replied. "It'll be obvious where the fighting is. I hope the Abbot really is keeping everybeast inside if he wants to keep them in the dark about this invasion. There's no way a blind creature wouldn't know where the fighting is today."  
"I'll go now," Apollo said. "I'll come back to you at sunset, and we'll make our plans for tomorrow."  
"Sounds like a good idea," Robin said, nodding approvingly.  
"Good luck, Apollo," said Greenleaf. With that, the youngest and fleetest of the archer-mice turned and ran from the camp, his powerful jog carrying him out of sight within just over a minute.  
"He runs like the wind," Robin said.  
"That's my boy," Apollo's father replied.  
"So you're really Apollo's father?" Robin asked. "This really isn't just a big joke?"  
"Oh, I assure you, it's no joke," Apollo's father replied.  
"What's your name, sir?" Greenleaf asked.  
"Philoctetes," the mouse responded.  
"That's a beautiful name," Greenleaf said.  
"I like it," Philoctetes replied modestly. "Well, let's get going! We've got an invasion to quell!"  
"Yeah, let's go," Yi said enthusiastically. "Oh, by the way," he said, turning to Philoctetes, "My name is Yi. This here," he said, turning to Greenleaf, "this here is Greenleaf. We're friends of your son's. There's no faster beast in all the land, sir."  
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," the older mouse replied. "And what, might I ask, do you call yourself, sir?" he asked Robin.  
"I am Robin, of the Northlands. I was driven from my home by civil war."  
"Well, it's extremely nice to see you all, and all that, but at the moment we have a vermin invasion to stop. Forward march!"  
  
"I am sending out a group of troops to cover you," Thunderclaw said, looking down from his makeshift throne at two weasel brothers, his assassins. "If I am right, the archers will press their luck and pursue us. All we have to do is find them. The horde will try to defeat them, but their main objective will be to drive the archers to a spot of your choosing. You will then do your job. Understood?"  
"Understood, my lord," replied the elder of the weasel brothers. "We will go scout the woods for a spot."  
"Good," replied Thunderclaw. "I want all of those archers dead! Every last one of them!"  
With that, the assassin brothers left the room. They sensed that their commander would get violent if they stayed any longer.  
It didn't take the weasel brothers very long to find their spot. It was a clearing, about a thirty minute walk from their horde encampment. There were trees for them to hide behind, and there was a nice open area to lure the mice into.  
"Let's head back and tell my lord that we've found our spot," said the elder.  
"Yes," the younger agreed.  
Within half an hour, they were back in Thunderclaw's chamber. The Hordemaster had calmed down a bit, and the brothers no longer feared for their lives before him. That didn't mean he was feeling fresh as a daisy, however.  
"Well..." he demanded impatiently. "Did you find it?"  
"Yes my lord," replied the elder. He was the one of the two brothers who spoke to Thunderclaw. The rat had never even heard the younger weasel's voice. "May we show the troops where they're to drive the mice?"  
"Yes, you should," said Thunderclaw. "Now listen," he said, bending closer to the two brothers so he was sure only they could hear him. "I'm not sending Yelloweye, and the Conjurer is dead. Obviously, I wouldn't think of going myself. These troops are going to be leaderless."  
"My lord, that is not safe!" the older weasel brother exclaimed.  
"Well," Thunderclaw replied. "That's just the thing. I figured I had to give them some sort of leadership. I don't like your profession at all, I think it is for cowards, but at least you have some brains and skill with a bow."  
"Thank you, my lord," the older weasel brother cut in, acknowledging the compliment. Thunderclaw's compliments, especially for his two assassins, were few and far between, and when he gave them he expected them to be accepted as though they were his weight in gold.  
"Do not thank me for telling the truth," Thunderclaw replied. He was trying to be nice to the weasel brothers. He was giving them an important task and didn't want them to fail. "You must lead the troops. Mind you, they don't need a battle plan; I've already supplied them with that. What they need is some leadership from some beasts that can take more than one hit, like yourselves. Those archer-mice aren't going to be the easiest assassination you've ever tried, but I doubt they'll be as hard as my younger brother to kill, and you had him dead to rights."  
"Yes, my lord," the older brother replied. "We will not fail you this time, as we did when we attempted to kill Kevar."  
"You'd better not," Thunderclaw replied, fighting to keep his temper even. He still hadn't gotten over the fact that his otherwise brilliant assassins had failed to execute his brilliant plan to kill his younger brother. That was the reason he had to carry out this idiotic invasion in the first place. He wouldn't have had to worry about archer-mice if his assassins had been able to kill his brother. He'd have a Royal Guard in armor, and his horde to protect him. No resistance would have been able to touch him. "You'd better not fail me," he said. "Or I'll have your heads for my standard. That oughta frighten those damned mice!"  
"Yes, yes my lord," the older brother said, his voice rising ever so slightly in fear. The weasel brothers then left the chamber, doing their best to remain calm, but almost tripping over each other in their haste to leave.  
  
Apollo came to a door in a tree. This looked like the home of some small creature, perhaps a mouse or a squirrel. Within a few seconds of his knock, a kindly looking mousewife answered the door and confirmed his suspicion.  
"Hello, marm," he said respectfully.  
"Greetings, sir," she responded. "My, you look like you've run a long way. Do you know anything about all the noise that's been in the woods?"  
"That's why I'm here, ma'am," he replied. "There is...has...I regret to inform you, been a vermin invasion."  
"Oh my!" the mousewife exclaimed. "You must come inside! You can't be in the way of a vermin invasion."  
SHE DOESN'T THINK I LOOK LIKE A FIGHTING BEAST! Apollo thought to himself. Do I not look tough for some reason? Because of his irritation, he responded to the kindly mouse in a less than even voice. "I do not seek your shelter," he said through gritted teeth. "I am a member of a six- mouse resistance to this invasion."  
"Six mice!" she exclaimed. "Against an entire vermin horde? You don't stand a chance!"  
"That is not, ma'am, how we see it," Apollo replied, still struggling to keep his voice even. "I was wondering if...if you have any beasts of fighting age with you...living with you, in your house. I know it would be hard to let them go, but we must fight to save our beautiful woodlands."  
A tear trickled down the mousewife's cheek. "I...I see. Yes, well, we'd better get you inside for a drink. You've run a long way."  
"Thank you, ma'am. Is there anyone of fighting age in your household?"  
"My...my son, Pandaro...he is about your age by the looks of you. He would...want to join you."  
Just then, they came into the mice's living room. Lounging there was a beast who, indeed, looked about his age.  
"Um...Pandaro," his mother said. "I...we...I think there's something you'd want to hear."  
The mousewife turned to look at Apollo, then hurried out of the room to get him water. Apollo shuffled his footpaws nervously. This woman wanted him to break the news to her son that he had to go to war.  
"Um...yes," he began gingerly, and then stopped. The young mouse- archer coughed. "Yes. Well. First, you should know that our woods...Mossflower woods...have been invaded by a horde of vermin."  
"Real vermin?" the other young mouse asked incredulously. "Here?"  
"They are bent on taking over Redwall Abbey and enslaving us all," Apollo continued. "There is no hope for us if we do not fight. There are a small band of us who happened to be inside Redwall Abbey at the time who have had some training in warfare. We are fighting back against the vermin. We are trying to march into their encampment and cause as much slaughter and death as we possibly can. We..." the mouse faltered. "We can't realistically hold out much hope for victory."  
"Why are you here?" Pandaro demanded.  
"I'm here because...I'm here because...because I...WE...because we want you to join us."  
"Me?" Pandaro replied disbelievingly. "You...want ME to join your band of six fighters against a vermin horde? What're you, crazy?"  
"Well...I had hoped that...given the circumstances..."  
"No, no, no, no, no, no! You're serious?"  
"Completely."  
"OF COURSE I'm in!" Pandaro exclaimed. "Fight vermin? Defend our woods? I've been dreaming about that stuff ever since I was a Dibbun!"  
Apollo's shoulders slumped with relief. "Thank you, Pandaro. You're a brave beast."  
"Wow," Pandaro said to himself. "Real vermin! I am going to be a warrior after all."  
"You know of course that it's completely up to you," Apollo said. "This is our quest, and you need not join. We just hope you see the urgency of the situation."  
"I'm in sir," the young mouse said.  
"Hah," Apollo said, laughing scornfully. "Sir! Just call me Apollo." 


	5. The Assassination Attempt

Chapter 5: The Assassination Attempt  
  
Pandaro made ready to leave. Apollo, however, was a different story. Having run SO far, SO quickly, he was exhausted. And after he sat down, his body just wouldn't let him get back to his footpaws.  
"Goodbye, Pandaro," he said from the couch. "You'll know where to go. Wherever you hear cries and hear and smell fighting, make a beeline for it. I'll follow as soon as I can, but I'm just not sure how soon that'll be. Good luck!"  
"Thank you, Apollo," Pandaro replied politely. "Goodbye."  
"Goodbye, Pandaro," said his mother, from next to Apollo on the couch. She sniffed. "I love you."  
"I love you, mom," he replied. And with that, he stepped out the door, his bow across his back. He'd never seen action before. Was that EVER about to change!  
  
Philoctetes didn't like not having found the horde yet. It was late afternoon, and they were still following a trail that seemed to have doubled back on itself at least sixty times.  
"Look at all these slashings," he said softly to himself. "Must've been more'n two score of 'em, and they weren't trying to hide their tracks, either."  
No sooner had he said those words than an arrow embedded itself between his footpaws. He wasn't so lucky on the next arrow. It hit him right in the leg. He gasped slightly, not having felt pain for so long, and then came back to his senses.  
"AMBUSH!" he yelled. "AMBUSH! Everybeast, TAKE COVER!"  
As the other three archer-mice scrambled for cover, Philoctetes unslung his bow. Loading quickly, he returned the vermin archers' fire, even though he wasn't quite sure of their position yet. He was rewarded with a gasp from somewhere in the trees.  
"RETREAT!" he could hear the vermin captain yelling. "THEY'VE SEEN US! RETREAT! RETREAT!"  
"After them!" Philoctetes shouted, and immediately his three friends sprang from behind trees to follow him.  
They shouldn't've retreated that quickly, he thought to himself. I only took out one of their beasts, and I couldn't even see them. Nevertheless, he followed the vermin doggedly, his three friends right on his tail. After following the vermin until it was nearly dark, with occasional exchange of arrows, the four archer-mice skidded to a halt. Yi gasped, an arrows protruding from his stomach.  
"IT WAS A TRAP!" Philoctetes shouted. "DAMMIT! I SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER!"  
The weasel assassin brothers leapt from behind the trees and brush on the other side of the clearing.  
"It's only two beasts!" Greenleaf exclaimed, loading his bow to fire at the assassins, only to watch them disappear behind the trees. Realizing that they couldn't stay out in the open, the mouse archers that were still able to function assisted Yi behind a bush that they'd seen.  
"It's those two assassins," Tell said grimly. "I saw 'em for dangerous right when they first showed up here. I knew that rat-king'd try to use 'em."  
"Nevermind what we should have known!" Philoctetes shot back. "We've already lost a beast, and just in case you haven't noticed, those weasels aren't gone yet!"  
"You...haven't lost...me," Yi managed to say, sitting up a bit. "I'll...be okay, it just...it hurts."  
"We'll hold them off," Philoctetes said. "Greenleaf! You go run and find some herbs for Yi's wound. If they haven't pierced any of his organs, there's a chance he might live!"  
Leaping out from the bushes, Philoctetes and Tell loaded their bows, holding the strings taught as they aimed at the trees behind which the weasel brothers were hiding.  
The weasels, who had their heads down and were outnumbered, had no idea that the two mice were waiting for them.  
"Now!" exclaimed the elder brother, and both weasels leapt from their cover. TWANG! Tell and Philoctetes let their strings go, almost immediately rolling back behind the bush they had been using as a refuge. THUNK THUNK! The arrows found their target, smashing into the chest of the elder weasel brother. He staggered, swayed, and managed to keep his feet.  
"Unnnnnh!" he gasped. Once again, Tell and Philoctetes leapt out, before the weasel brothers could get behind their cover. Once again their arrows hit the elder brother. He fell like a stone.  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" exclaimed the younger weasel. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He charged. Like a madbeast from Hellgates, he came like lightning at the two mice. They loaded and fired, hitting him twice right in the chest. The arrows had no effect. On came the younger weasel, footpaws pounding on the ground. He dived for the two old veterans.  
The mice leveled themselves, flat against the ground, as the weasel soared over their heads. Then he came crashing down on his chest, driving the arrows into him. He bounced, skidded, and lay still.  
Breathing hard, the two mice picked themselves up off the ground. Dusting himself off, Philoctetes sighed.  
"They loved each other, those two," he said softly. "Maybe vermin really do have hearts. But they were assassins, and cowards, and they deserved what they got."  
"They put up quite a fight," Tell said. "Surprising for assassins, really, to be able to take so many hits."  
"However many hits they could take," Philoctetes replied, "they injured one of our beasts by ambush. That wasn't right."  
"YI!" Tell exclaimed, dashing behind the bush. Philoctetes followed, at a slightly slower pace. The wound in his leg was still hurting, as he hadn't even bothered to remove the arrow. Having not felt pain for a considerable number of seasons, the old battler was certainly getting his fair share now.  
What he saw behind the bush made him breathe a sigh of relief. Yi was asleep, and Greenleaf had tended to the wound nicely. Not only that, but looking at the size of the bandage, the wound wasn't as severe as Philoctetes had originally estimated.  
"You have some skill as a healer, Greenleaf," Philoctetes observed.  
"I've always loved healing people," the younger mouse replied. "I think it's wonderful."  
"Do you have a lot of practice?" Philoctetes asked.  
"Well, no, not really," Greenleaf admitted. "My mother taught me many tricks though, and she taught me which herbs helped what. She was a great old mouse, my mum."  
"I'm sure she was," Philoctetes replied.  
"Have you seen her?" Greenleaf asked, suddenly excited.  
"Have I what?"  
"How's she doing? Oh, and I didn't even realize I had this resource, right here!"  
"What EVER are you talking about, Greenleaf?" Philoctetes demanded.  
"You!" Greenleaf replied. "Until yesterday, you were dead! Eh...um...." he looked up uncomfortable, not sure if he'd offended the old mouse.  
"Yes I was," the grizzled veteran replied. "As to your mother...I'm not sure. I didn't know who she was in life, so I wouldn't have recognized her in the Dark Forest. But it is EXTREMELY likely that I've talked to her at some point. So, most likely, she's fine. You know, it isn't such a bad place."  
"That's what you say," said Greenleaf. "Personally, I NEVER intend on going there."  
"Oh but you will at some point," Philoctetes said.  
"Could we stop all this morbid talk?" Tell demanded. "Let's go to sleep so that we c'n rise early tomorrow. My bet's it won't sit very well with that rat-king once he hears about this."  
"Yes, Tell, you're right," Philoctetes replied. "Yi seems to be the only one of us with the right idea.... We should all be getting to sleep."  
Without another word the mice curled up behind the bush and fell fast asleep.  
  
The news - exactly as Tell had predicted - didn't sit well with the Hordemaster at all. In fact, it's doubtful that even Tell could've predicted the rage it sent the rat into. Wrenching off his breastplate, Thunderclaw catapulted it at the wall.  
"GOD DAMMIT!" he exclaimed. "Those STUPID brothers. Good for nothing! Couldn't kill Kevar, couldn't kill those damn mice...COULDN'T KILL ANYBODY! GOSH DARN IT!"  
He stepped over the carcass of the stoat who had brought him the news. Thunderclaw didn't like to be told that he'd lost. 


	6. The Battle of Mossflower Wood

Chapter 6: The Battle of Mossflower Wood  
  
From behind him, Philoctetes could smell frying. He heard sizzling and cracking, and felt the warmth of a fire. I must be dreaming, he thought groggily to himself. We didn't bring any cooking utensils.  
"Morning, chaps," an unfamiliar voice called, also from behind him.  
"Huh?" Philoctetes said, sitting bolt upright.  
"I think this's where I'm supposed to be," the voice said, sounding a little unsure.  
"Who are you?" Philoctetes demanded. "What're you doing here?"  
"My name is Pandaro," said the voice.  
Philoctetes turned around and saw, sitting beside a fire warming some cakes, a young mouse, smiling at him. The old mouse knew that a fire wasn't the best idea, but since it was daytime he hoped the vermin might not see or dismiss the smoke they saw. And the old one didn't really feel like doing any scolding this early in the morning.  
"I was sent here by a mouse named Apollo. He said to look for the carnage of battle. There was a lot of yelling around here, and I see two weasels dead in the field. He said he was part of a six-mouse resistance to the vermin invasion that's hit these parts," Pandaro continued.  
"He certainly is," Philoctetes said. "And...well, yes," he finished lamely. He was going to say that he was the leader, but felt that perhaps he was best left as the unspoken leader.  
"Well, sir," Pandaro said, a bit nervously. "I'm...I'm your seventh!"  
"Sixth at the moment," Philoctetes said, scowling. "Where's Apollo?"  
"He couldn't get up," Pandaro replied. "He'd run through the entire woods looking for recruits. He said that there were barely any beasts of fighting age, and NO ONE wanted to join him. Isn't that crazy?"  
"Yes, well," Philoctetes said. "Some beasts lack the courage that it takes to make a true warrior. But that's okay. Because luckily, there's more to life than war. They can be Abbots, or writers, or cooks...goodness knows we need more cooks in the world. Say, you seem to have some skill with a pan."  
"My mother is a great cook," the young mouse said. "She's the best in all of Mossflower."  
"She looks to have passed on some of her skill to you," Philoctetes said, his mouth watering as he looked down at the cakes.  
"My mom is always thinking of other people," Pandaro said, looking up at the sky. "When I was getting ready to leave, she loaded me down with cooking utensils because she was worried that you guys would be hungry."  
"I'm sure she's a wonderful old beast," Philoctetes replied. "It's for beasts like her that we're fighting this war."  
"Breakfast is ready," Pandaro said.  
"I'll go wake the others," Philoctetes said. "Wouldn't want them to miss this."  
  
Yi had a hard time waking up. His wound was still hurting, and his body ached all over from the rough ground on which he'd slept. As soon as he smelled the cakes however, he came to immediately.  
When all the mice were awake, they made a makeshift table out of a rock and sat down to eat. Philoctetes had been right: Pandaro did have some skill with a pan.  
  
It wasn't a sound of cakes frying over a fire that awoke Yelloweye the Sling that very morning. It was a rough poke in the back from the sharpest claw he'd ever felt. He knew exactly who was poking him: the Hordemaster, Lord Thunderclaw.  
"My Lord?" Yelloweye said, groggily and inquisitively. The rat didn't usually wake Yelloweye up this early. It had to be urgent.  
"Yelloweye," Thunderclaw said. "I need you. These mouse archers are far luckier than I could have possibly expected them to be. Somehow, they've managed to escape my assassination attempt. You will assault them and destroy them, then march to Redwall Abbey and take it. There will be no looting until I myself arrive. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, my Lord," Yelloweye said, still waking up. "I'll get the troops now." Leaping to his footpaws, the immense wildcat towered over Thunderclaw. The rat placed a paw on the cat's hip.  
"You're my best fighter, Yelloweye. I have the utmost confidence in you. I know you won't let me down, old friend."  
"That I won't, my Lord."  
"Good. Then go and rally the troops. Redwall will be mine before the sun sets tonight!"  
  
After finishing their breakfast, the archer-mice were extremely satisfied.  
"We cannot rest long," Philoctetes said. "I'm sure that rat will have something up his sleeve for today. He'll be out for revenge after we killed his assassins."  
"You're right about that, Philo," Tell replied. "There's no way he'll sit still. Vermin like 'him don't take to bein' beaten. You mark my words; he'll be out for our blood."  
"Then let's GO!" Robin said. "Man, I don't want to sit behind a bush all day. Let's find a decent spot from which to defend ourselves. I doubt he'll go after Redwall when he knows we're still around. He'll be worried we'll kill him once he gets into Redwall."  
"Robin's right," said Philoctetes. "Let's get out of here. Forward march!"  
They marched onward until late afternoon. That's when an arrow went zipping past Philoctetes' ear, burying itself point-first in the ground behind them.  
"I think they've found us, boys," Philoctetes said. "Everybody down. Find cover somewhere, looks like they've brought an Abbeyfull. Alright guys, here come the fireworks!"  
Arrows rained down from every direction as the vermin poured their arsenal into the mice. But from behind their cover, the mice didn't take a single wound.  
"Load!" Philoctetes shouted. "And...RELEASE!"  
The mice leapt from behind the trees. Tell's arrow felled a stoat. Greenleaf took down a weasel. Philoctetes hit a ferret. Yi nailed a rat. Robin's arrow hit a ferret, ripped right through his chest, and pierced a fox directly behind him. Pandaro's arrow missed.  
The young mouse cursed, softly.  
"It's alright, young one," Robin said reassuringly. "'Twas your first combat shot. You'll get one next time."  
"TAKE COVER!" Philoctetes shouted.  
The mice dived behind the trees, just as hell once again came raining down on them from the vermin archers.  
"Load," came Philoctetes' command. "And...RELEASE!"  
Once again the mice leapt from behind a tree. This time, Tell hit a weasel, Robin took down a fox, Greenleaf killed a ferret, Yi hit another rat, and Philoctetes hit a stoat. Pandaro missed again.  
Before he could say anything, Robin threw up a paw. "It's okay! That's only your second shot!"  
Again, the mice were forced to take cover as the vermin archers fired off another salvo.  
"Load," said Philoctetes. "And...RELEASE!"  
The mice leapt from behind the trees again. This time, Pandaro got a rat. He pumped his fist, and as a result took an arrow in the leg before he could get back to safety.  
The adrenaline of combat was on him though; he barely felt the arrow. And after his first kill, everything seemed a little easier. The battle seemed to go by in a blur. Philoctetes was shouting...they were firing, then taking cover...arrows were raining down on him, a few hitting him but most missing...they were advancing, cutting through the vermin...THEY WERE WINNING THE BATTLE!  
Pandaro quickly released an arrow, felling a rat on the spot. Raising his fist to the air, he let a triumphant cry rip from his throat! Victory was theirs!  
But then, just as he opened his mouth to cry again, all the mice archers fell back...cowering in a shadow. 


	7. Robin's Revenge

Chapter 7: Robin's Revenge  
  
It was Yelloweye the Sling. Growling fearsomely, the cat raised his swing and began to twirl it.  
"Back!" Robin shouted, his eyes turning red as he saw the wildcat who had driven him from his home, those long years ago. "Back, all of you! He's mine!"  
"Nonsense, Robin," Philoctetes shot back. "You can't take a beast that size on your own!"  
"Sir, if you load that arrow to your bow, I will slay you," Robin replied, his body starting to shake. "What would Apollo say then?"  
"The Bloodwrath!" gasped Tell. "I thought only badgers suffered from it!"  
"It looks like Robin is suffering from it now, doesn't it?" Philoctetes asked, slightly impatiently. "Get the hell out of here! I'm not sure who's more dangerous, our Robin or that damned cat!"  
The other five mice scampered away, leaving the clearing empty. All of the vermin army was either slain or had fled. It was only Yelloweye and Robin.  
The cat wore a shirt of green, as did the mouse. Gazing down from his fearsome yellow eyes, Thunderclaw's greatest general leered at Robin.  
"Is there some sort of grudge a little mouse like you hold against me? And you hope to take your revenge on me? Do your worst."  
The cat, to Robin's shock, lowered his sling. He stood there, completely still.  
"I am Robin, originally of the Northlands. You drove me from my home," the great mouse said fiercely.  
"Then have your revenge," Yelloweye replied.  
"As you wish," Robin said.  
Choosing his best arrow, the mouse fitted it to his finely-crafted bow. He'd made it himself, with part of a yew sapling he'd chopped down himself. He'd been through many battles with his bow.  
"Don't fail me," he muttered to the weapon.  
Drawing the string back, he released. The world has never seen, nor ever will see, such a perfect shot as Robin of the Northlands let fly at that very moment. Straight and true, it slammed into Yelloweye's chest.  
The cat didn't wince. He didn't fall. He didn't gasp. He didn't even move. He looked down at the shaft with mild interest.  
"A well-crafted arrow," he said. "You have some skill, mouse, both with a bow and as a craftsman. But you are so naïve. I cannot be hurt by anything but my own slingstones. My mother did that for me; she bathed my in the Dark Forest river. Mothers are useful, aren't they? Oh, but how silly of me. You barely knew your mother, right?"  
"No," said Robin, his teeth clenching. "You killed her. You know it. You acted like you didn't remember me, but you did. Even when I was barely five seasons old, all those long years ago, we made impressions on each other...and I knew then that I would slay you someday, Yelloweye the Sling."  
"You're right," said the cat. "I do remember you. That foolish look in your eye; the same look that all weak ones get when they're angry. You will never slay me, Robin-mouse. How can you possibly hit me with my own slingstones? Prepare to die."  
With that, the wildcat general raised his sling above his head and began to twirl it. Robin already had a plan in his mind. The mouse knew that if he was able to get one of his arrows to hit one of the cat's slingstones relatively close to the sling itself, he could give the stone enough momentum in the opposite direction to both hit and cause damage to the wildcat. It was going to be the toughest battle he ever fought, but he knew that he had a chance. And that little ray of hope is what keeps the best fighters alive.  
A flash in the wildcat's eye alerted Robin that he was about to fire. Having his bowstring all the way back, all the mouse had to do was let go. The arrow smashed into the slingstone, reflecting it back into the cat's face. Blood poured out of the cat's nose as he raised his sling again.  
"You're cunning, mouse, but that was a lucky shot. I'll bash your skull in before this one's over," Yelloweye said, twirling the sling faster and faster.  
"We'll see," Robin said, trying to stay modest. He didn't want to bait the cat, who was so proud of his sling skills that he hadn't thought to simply attack Robin with his bare paws. The wily mouse knew that if he made Yelloweye too mad, the cat would simply attack him.  
Robin outguessed Yelloweye over and over, until the cat's face was completely busted open. Staggering, Yelloweye released another stone from his sling. Robin hadn't expected the general to fire so quickly, and the stone smashed into his shoulder.  
There was a sickening crack, and Robin knew his shoulder was broken. He didn't much care though. He knew he had to take the cat down, and he was going to do it no matter what the cost to his body.  
Once again, the glimmer in Yelloweye's eye gave him away. But this time, he didn't stagger. He fell. Like a bird out of the sky. Like a rock dropped from the hand of a carefree child. He was dead before he hit the ground.  
  
Half an hour later, Robin was back with the five other archers, who were tending to his broken shoulder. During the battle between Robin and Yelloweye, the others had managed to tend to their own wounds, all of which were relatively minor.  
Greenleaf set the shoulder in a brace. When Tell suggested that Robin go back to Redwall, Robin refused, point blank.  
"No, Tell, I just won't. There's a battle to be fought and won, and I just can't miss any of the action. Besides," he said, smiling mischievously at the others, "you guys need me. You couldn't do it without me."  
"True enough, Robin, true enough," Tell said, laughing.  
"I think," said Philoctetes, "that it's time for us to get to sleep. We'll need our rest, for tomorrow we'll go and find the horde where they're camped, and root out the last of them."  
"Whatever you say, Philo," Tell said. "I think there're more o' them than you realize. Well, we'll find out tomorrow I suppose."  
"Amen," said Greenleaf.  
And so the mouse archers lay down and dropped off into a deep sleep. They needed to heal all their wounds, and they needed it to rest up for the next day, which was to be the biggest in most of their lives to that point. 


	8. The Return of Apollo

Chapter 8: The Return of Apollo  
  
The sun hadn't even risen the next morning when Philoctetes felt a tap on his shoulder. "Dad! Dad! DAD!"  
"Huh? It's so early, go back to bed!" the old mouse responded.  
The tapping continued. "Wake up dad, wake up! I'm back! Come on, wake up!"  
"Apollo? Whaddaya mean you're..." he trailed off as everything that had transpired since he came back to life flooded into his mind.  
"Apollo!" he exclaimed. "You're back!"  
"That's what I just said," the young mouse replied.  
"I'm sorry, it's just so early. I just came back to life, dammit, give a mouse a break!"  
"What happened? Were there any battles while I was gone? How's Pandaro? Is he good? What's the next move?"  
"Well," Philoctetes said, "you seem in good form so early. To answer your first question, we fought the biggest battle that this wood has seen since the Vermin Wars."  
"This wood hasn't seen very many battles at all since the Vermin Wars, has it?" Apollo asked.  
"Well, no," Philoctetes admitted. "But what I'm trying to say is...it was a really big battle. The enemy had probably ten score or more, and they were led by the most fearsome looking wildcat I've ever seen."  
"Ah yes," Apollo said. "The wildcat. We saw him when the horde came marching up to Redwall. I knew he was a fearsome beast then. Did we lose anyone?"  
"No," Philoctetes replied. "Thankfully. Vermin can only take one hit, everyone knows that, and we had some excellent cover. I don't know if they could have possibly picked a worse spot for the battle."  
"Well that's lucky," Apollo said. "And how's Pandaro? Is he a good archer? I was a bit worried about him you know, this is his first combat."  
"Well, everyone has first combat at some point. You haven't had very much combat, have you?"  
"Well, no, not REALLY. I mean, there've been a couple of times where I've faced vermin raiders, but I haven't seen that much combat really, I guess."  
"I'm pretty sure this is basically the first combat for everybeast in our band, excepting me and Tell."  
"Well, I'm not sure if that's quite fair. I mean, Robin is as battle- hardened a beast as there is."  
"I think Robin may very well be the best shot I've ever seen," the old mouse said, very seriously. "You should've seen the way the Bloodwrath took him when he saw that wildcat."  
"He told us something about that," Apollo said. "Something about the cat having driven him from his home."  
"Whatever the cat did, that mouse went after him with a furor that was bordering on evil."  
"Did he kill him in one shot?"  
"No, but he would have, had the cat not been the son of a sorcerer."  
"What? Sorcerers aren't real, dad, you know that as well as I do."  
"Well, I thought I did," Philoctetes replied. "But I know that your eyes don't lie, no matter how hard you may try to make them do so. Robin hit the cat dead in the chest with the best shot I've ever seen, and the cat didn't even care. It was one of the more disturbing things I've ever seen in my life. He looked at it like it was some sort of interesting button on his shirt."  
"So then how'd Robin kill him?" Apollo demanded.  
"It was the most spectacular feat of archery I've ever seen," Philoctetes replied. "The cat could only be wounded with his own slingstones. So...you're not gonna believe this, I'm not even sure I do entirely...he knocked the cat's slingstones back into his face."  
"He what?"  
"Exactly what I said. He knocked the cat's slingstones back into his face. Just as the cat was about to release a stone from his sling, Robin'd hit the stone and knock it back into the cat's face."  
"You're kidding right? I'm not even sure that's physically possible."  
"I told you, Apollo, it was the greatest feat of archery I've ever seen. It was UNBELIEVABLE."  
"Wow! That IS unbelievable. I...wow."  
"Yeah. Well, we'd better get him and the others up; WE'VE got a horde encampment to find."  
"Hey dad," Apollo said, placing a paw on his resurrected father's shoulders.  
"Yes?"  
"It's good to fight together."  
"Isn't it just? I love you, Apollo. C'mon, let's go get the others up." 


	9. The Horde's Last Stand

Chapter 9: The Horde's Last Stand  
  
Breakfast was a quick affair that morning; the mouse-archers weren't really into eating. They were all thinking about their invasion of the horde's encampment. It was a darn near suicidal maneuver, but it was the only way they could possibly rid themselves of the vermin invasion.  
"Well," said Tell. "This's it guys. You ready?"  
"Oh yeah," Robin replied.  
"We're glad to have you back from your own little world, Robin," Greenleaf said. "You were un frickin' believable yesterday. D'you even REMEMBER how you beat that cat?"  
"Well," said Robin. "I shot his slingstones back into his face. That's pretty much all I remember."  
"You do realize that something like that is basically unprecedented, don't you? I've NEVER seen anything like what you just did yesterday," said Philoctetes.  
"Yeah, from what I hear you were brilliant, Robin," Apollo put in.  
"Thanks, guys," said Robin. "I hadda strike one last blow for old mom." He sniffed.  
"Let's go," Philoctetes commanded. "No use sitting here and reflecting on our lives till we scare ourselves outta this thing. Let's move. Forward march!"  
  
The vermin encampment was almost a full day's march from where the mice had camped. It was a dark, rock-strewn corner of Mossflower, and its only distinctive feature was a gigantic rock tower. It had been built during the Vermin Wars, and it stood to that day, a towering monolithic giant, marking that edge of Mossflower country almost like a pylon. Creeping up softly, the mice surveyed the camped vermin.  
Noisy, mean, and disrespectful. If the mice could have picked three words for the vermin horde, those would have been they. Pawing the ground, shouting, and yelling at each other, the vermin were proving to the archers that they deserved every bit of the beating that they'd had lain upon them thus far.  
There were, indeed, twenty score of vermin at least camped there, but probably more.  
"Well?" demanded Pandaro. "What now?"  
"Not quite sure," Philoctetes admitted. "I've faced some overwhelming odds before, but never really like this."  
"So you have no idea what to do," Apollo finished drearily.  
"Well, obviously I know that we have to defeat these guys in battle," Philoctetes replied.  
"All of them?" Greenleaf gasped.  
"Well," Philoctetes responded, "enough of them to make the rest run away."  
"That shouldn't be too many," Pandaro said confidently. "Everyone knows vermin are cowards."  
"Yeah, but they're right under that rat-king's nose," Robin remarked. "They won't run away in front of him."  
"That's exactly true," said Philoctetes. "Which is why we face a conundrum. We have to kill the rat-king to beat them but we have to beat them to kill the rat-king."  
"Well...?" was all Pandaro could come up with. The young mouse had never seen anything like this before.  
"All I can say is...I've died in battle before. It's not so bad," Philoctetes replied.  
Pandaro started to laugh, but Robin raised his hand to silence the youth.  
"He's serious," the green-clad mouse said.  
"He's...he's what? No. This is a joke...it's...." The newest addition to the band looked around at his companions. Not one of them was laughing.  
"We'll explain later," Tell said. "Now's not the time to put something else on your mind...or ours, for that matter. We've all got enough on our minds. We have to stop this invasion if Redwall and Mossflower will ever be at peace again. And if we have to die for it, then I say so be it."  
"Tell's right," Philoctetes said. "Now isn't the time for talk. There is no way to out scheme this many vermin. There's only one thing for it: we must fight!"  
  
And that's just what they did. Stringing his bow, Robin let the first shot fly. It hit a fox, went through him by the force of it, and embedded itself in a rat, who fell on the spot. All hell broke loose.  
To attempt to describe that battle would be to do it an injustice. The action that took place over that hour was the fiercest in the history of Mossflower woods...or at least in the recent memory of that place. Somehow; some way; the mouse archers managed to clear a path so that there were no vermin in between them and Thunderclaw.  
The rat, unlike the other members of his horde, showed no fear of the mouse archers.  
  
"Cease-fire!" he called. Everybeast in his horde lowered their bows, as did the seven archer-mice.  
"Well," the rat-king said, smirking. "These are the seven archers that have single-handedly battled their way through my entire horde and put my beasts to shame. These are the archers who have somehow defeated all of my best generals and THIS ONE..." he stopped and pointed at Robin, "this mouse...the greatest living archer, I am told...THIS MOUSE...HIM...HE destroyed Yelloweye the Sling. Practically an immortal my wildcat was. How could this mouse have destroyed him?"  
"It was the most amazing archery I have ever seen," Philoctetes replied. "He managed to...."  
ZIP! The Hordemaster let fly an arrow from his bow, and it lodged itself in Robin's chest. The mouse toppled backwards.  
"Whatever it was," Thunderclaw said. "He'll never do it again. Does any other of you dare to challenge me?"  
"That, rat," said Tell, "was the last cowardly crime you'll ever commit. I will slay you."  
"You'll never get a shot off," the Hordemaster replied. He fitted another arrow to his bow. "ATTACK!" he shouted.  
His army, which had gathered behind him during the bantering, rushed forward. Like the good friends that they were, each blessed with battle intuition (even Pandaro, who, as related earlier, had never seen battle before the previous day); all of the archer-mice strove to hold off the horde as Tell battled the Hordemaster.  
Thunderclaw was a good archer and an experienced battler; Tell had never really seen - let alone faced - an adversary such as the former king of the Northlands. Still, he was not intimidated. He couldn't believe the cowardice the rat had shown in shooting Robin, and anger rose in the way the rat had slapped away HIS declaration that he would slay him.  
Tell fired, knocking the Hordemaster backwards. Again and again the mouse loosed his bow at the rat, some hitting, some missing...it didn't really matter to Tell anymore; he never worried about a shot once it left his bow.  
Thunderclaw wasn't just standing there, either. He was firing his own bow, and with great skill and accuracy as well. He had hit Tell twice; once in the shoulder and once in the stomach, when Tell nailed him right above the heart.  
The rat gasped and stumbled backwards. Wrenching the arrow out of his torso, Thunderclaw retreated up to his tower, yelling at his soldiers to do the same. 


	10. The Elder Blodshaft's Final Battle

Chapter 10: The Elder Bloodshaft's Final Battle  
  
Yi dashed over to Robin as soon as Thunderclaw called for the retreat. He expected to find his friend lifeless and motionless, but this was not the case.  
"Oh Robin!" Yi sobbed. "I can't believe they did that to you!"  
"No really, I'm okay," the great archer replied.  
"You're brave," Yi said.  
"No, no, no," Robin shot back scornfully. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not dying. The jackass missed my heart. By a good lot. He's not quite as amazing at archery as he thinks."  
"We'd better get you out of the way," Yi said concernedly. "He's up in that tower and he'll pick you off if we don't."  
"Okay," Robin said, crawling away from the spot where he had lain.  
"NO! That's not what I meant!" Yi said helplessly.  
"I'm not as badly injured as you think," Robin replied. "I fell mostly out of shock. You see, I've never really been hit by an arrow, and I THOUGHT I was dead. Then as soon as I hit the ground I realized I was fine, but I was still too shocked to do anything."  
"If you say so," Yi said. "But we must help Tell. He's trying to bring the rat-king down up in the tower!"  
And indeed that was what Tell was trying to do. It was a large task, but it wasn't impossible, as Thunderclaw was trying to hit them with a crossbow, so his head and shoulders were a possible target through the opening in the tower that served as a window.  
"You'll never leave that tower alive, rat," Tell shouted defiantly.  
"You think you can defeat me with your pathetic longbow? I have a crossbow and a whole tower as my protection! I should say it would be you, mouse, who will not be leaving this battle alive."  
"There is no substitute for skill, Your Highness," Tell replied scornfully. "I'll win no matter what 'cause I can shoot and you can't."  
"I think you're going to find out who can shoot," Thunderclaw shot back.  
"Yes," Tell replied calmly. "I think you will."  
The other archers, meanwhile, had their hands full as well. Vermin were pouring out of the tower, trying to get to Tell and kill him before he could hurt their master. Philoctetes, Apollo, Pandaro, and Greenleaf had their hands full as Yi and, to the great surprise of all, Robin joined them in desperately attempting to keep the horde off Tell. Their only saving grace was the fact that the doors out of the tower were narrow, and only two vermin could get out at a time.  
"Normally I'd take that rat-king myself," Robin said. "But that's Tell's battle. And he's doing a fine job of it, I should say."  
Indeed he was. Tell had already scored two hits of Thunderclaw, both to his shoulders, and had buried more than fifty arrows in the rock around the opening from which the rat-king was firing.  
It was then that the fateful blows were dealt. Tell fired off a perfect shot, nailing Thunderclaw right between the eyes. It was the first shot during the whole battle that Tell had taken the time to watch. He knew it was perfect as soon as he let it go, and he wanted to see his handiwork do in the rat-king who had tried to overrun his beautiful forest.  
It was a fatal error. Just before the arrow struck Thunderclaw, the Hordemaster released the crossbow one last time. The arrow slammed into Tell's chest. The mouse gasped, then keeled over...dead, instantly. The last thing he ever saw was his arrow connect squarely with the Hordemaster's head. Tell knew, in that last millisecond of his life, that he had freed Mossflower.  
With Thunderclaw dead, the horde fled on the spot. The body of their leader fell from the opening of the tower. The last remnants of the invasion were gone. Mossflower was free. 


	11. Author's Note

Author's Note  
  
When I began to write this, almost two months ago, finishing it was almost in a distant fog. The idea of novelizing the original downloadable Redwall game seemed to me a daunting task, and getting the entire thing out seemed like it was going to be impossible. Still though, I set fingers to keys and began to work. And two months later I've finally finished it.  
It is, without a doubt, the finest work of my short and undistinguished career. I really enjoyed writing it, though there were problems.  
At times I felt as though the story took itself too seriously, almost as though I was over-writing it. Anyone who has played the game may get this feeling as well, although upon second reading I don't at all feel this way.  
Another problem I had with it at points was the simple fact that it was based upon Vermin Invaders. Anyone who has played the game will know that its brilliance is in its simplicity. This story, while fairly simple, I worry fails to communicate the addictiveness of the game. You don't play the game for plot. You play the game because, simply, it's wonderful to hit that shift key and blast those vermin outta there!  
But I think it came out rather well. It adds a dimension to the game that didn't exist before. Now, when I go back and play the game, I always think about the story that I added and I realize that it puts a lot more depth into the game. When I want to blast vermin, the game is still always there for me, but it's also there for me when I want to play a Redwall game with a little bit of plot, something that hadn't really come out until the wonderful "STC" came out with Vermin Invaders 2, a much more advanced version still using the same simple gaming system.  
Speaking of VI2, I know there are those of you who will be eager for it to be released. To those of you who are looking forward to my VI2 novelization, I have a few things to say to you.  
First, I'm flattered that you would actually want me to write a novelization of VI2, because it means you enjoyed this one. Thank you for reading me and I hope you read my other stuff in the future.  
Second, there will be a Vermin Invaders 2 novelization. It will be out as quickly as possible. Those of you who are fans of the series know that VI2 took STC over a year to make. I can promise you that it will be less than a year before VI2 the novel is released.  
However, it may be a while. There's obviously school, and other work (I'm working on a serial right now, as you may or may not know, so that makes my writing career even more interesting), and then there's the simple fact that VI2 is going to be both a lot more fun to novelize and a lot harder.  
It is, as fans of the series know, a lot longer than the original VI. It also has much more of a story that I have to stay faithful to. It actually has some characters in it that I need to use.  
VI fans will notice that Scarbow was included in this novelization. I did that because I thought fans of the series would love it, and I also did it for myself. I love seeing the link between books in a series, and I thought it was really neat that I was able to include Scarbow.  
But getting back to VI2, I do promise you that it will be out sometime, hopefully sooner rather than later. But there's other projects, and my serial, and school...and then there's gotta be some time for friends, family, sleeping, and eating in there.  
I'm going to a little something to tide you VI fans over. A short story (maybe one or two or three at the most chapters), based on one of the bonus games in VI2, will be released within the next few months, just as a little appetizer for things to come.  
To wrap things up, basically what I'm trying to say is that I really appreciate those of you that stayed all the way with me, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Thank you especially to the fans of STCP games, specifically the VI series, for reading this. I hope you thought it captured the spirit of the game while expanding on it, and I hope that it expands the fun of playing the game. Feel free to e-mail me at JonOgden@aol.com with any questions.  
Keep blasting vermin!  
  
~J.S.O. 


End file.
